Perfume Confession

L'Artisan Dzing! fragranceI loved L’Artisan Parfumeur Dzing! from the moment I first smelled it, and even before letting the scent settle, I’d bought a bottle. I loved the caramelly leather and gasoline and the musky, animalic drydown. In the throes of enthusiasm, I raved to a good friend about Dzing! and sprayed it up her arm. She liked it, too. Before long, she’d bought a bottle and was telling me how often people complimented her on it.

Perhaps you are a bigger person than I am, and you would have been happy that the perfume brought her so much pleasure. Not me. When she told me she wanted to wear Dzing!, too, I was irritated. I encouraged her to try Bvlgari Black and tried to stack the deck in its favor by telling her she could buy it less expensively; it was a groundbreaking scent; I knew a really sexy guy who wore it; etc. She still wanted Dzing!.

To some extent, it was my own fault that she’d taken over Dzing!. I’d been sharing perfume samples with her and even gave her my bottle of Guerlain Vetiver when it turned soapy on me. I told her where she could buy a large bottle of Patou Vacances for fifty dollars, and I spent way too much time on my soapbox about how the art of scent takes a back seat to arts associated with the other senses. Plus, I was complimented that she’d adopted a few of my other loves, including Caetano Veloso, hand-tooled wallets, Lillet, and Thin Man movies.

Then she told me that she’d introduced the bartender at a pretentious bar, one I’d regularly dissed, to my favorite summer cocktail, a tasty but obscure drink that used to be served at the Ritz in Paris just after World War II. The bartender promptly added it to the menu of special cocktails (curiously naming it the "David Niven"). That was the final straw. Like a baby, I began to proselytize Dzing! everywhere I went. If I couldn’t have it to myself, no one else could either. Now, three of my friends, one friend’s sister, another friend’s husband, and the owner of my favorite vintage clothing store are all Dzing! fans. L’Artisan should notice a sharp regional spike in Dzing! sales.

Of course, Dzing! is still in my top ten, but, as is true of every fragrance I’ve loved, others have come and gone as favorites since then. If I’d thought about it, maybe I wouldn’t have been so petty about Dzing!, especially with a friend I value so much. After all, it’s not like I invented it. I’m ashamed of my jealousy, and I really am trying to be a better person. But I’ll tell you this: she’s never going to see my bottle of Ormonde Woman.

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  1. Anonymous says:

    I laughed and cringed in equal measure. But you've got it wrong – it's not you who's mean, it's your friend whose insensitive. It strikes me you've been a great and generous friend, sharing all the best things – it is your friend who is at fault. She should have known that just as you don't flirt with your best friend's lover, so too you don't grab her scent!

    I let my darling sister sniff my SL Fleur d'Oranger and told her I loved it more than I could say. She swooned too but when I said let's share a flagon of the stuff she was shocked. No! she said , I wouldn't dream of it – it's yours!

    It's all to do with individuality and privacy – now Dzing has been showering favours all over town I hope you've found a replacement. And tell her hands off!

  2. Anonymous says:

    Angela: does your friend know you write for NST? If so, the scent of Ormonde Woman may greet your nostrils next time you meet her! K

  3. Anonymous says:

    A good friend of mine used to use Elizabeth Arden Red Door and one day a “friend” of hers started using it too. The thing is, this “friend” was constantly flirting with my friend's husband, so adopting her signature scent was crossing a very dangerous line. She never said anything, instead she decided to start wearing EA 5th Avenue. Lo and behold, what do you think her “friend” did? You guessed it, she started wearing 5th Avenue. I don't think I have to get into detail about what happened next – let's just say no one ever stole her signature scent again. A fragrance is a very personal thing.

  4. Anonymous says:

    Angela, I totally agree with you!!!!!!I can´t even bear to think that someone from my circle tried Ambre Narguilé and ACTUALLY wore it…I think I would be devastated…This thing happened to me with Eau D´Orange Verte: I recommended it and it´s not the same for me anymore.

  5. Anonymous says:

    spread that Dzing love around!!! I do empathize, but luckily nobody I see daily wears anything close to what I wear, so I'm lucky, but I would feel as miserly as you do if someone started smelling like me all the time!

  6. Anonymous says:

    Ha! The same thing occurred to me, too :) But perhaps Angela meant for her friend to read this article, you know, like a subtle hands-off-my-treasure kinda warning. Well, not so subtle anyway… :-D

    Like Patty below, I too am blessed with having people around me who mostly show mid-to-no interest in perfume and although I wouldn't mind at all if some of them wore my favourites (highly unlikely), I'd sooner tar and feather myself naked in the street than give away a single bottle from my collection. Now that's mean! ;-)

  7. Anonymous says:

    You have a wonderful sister, Jane…!

    I, too am often at fault with sharing my enthusiasms…

    but as a recipient [N.B.- not victim] of uncharitable treatment at the hands of misogynistic females most of my life, I refuse to play coy.

    Sure, I'm not happy when others mimic my tastes, but it is CRUEL to give a recipe w/ wrong proportions, beauty misinformation, etc.

    I agonize w/ you, Robin.

    No easy, glib answers here…

    [And I love you for your candor- bless you !

    MWAH !]

  8. Anonymous says:

    You are so nice! (And your sister is pretty terrific, too.) But I still do feel like a small person. The Dzing! friend is a pretty good friend and has seen me through thick and thin. Maybe I have mixed feelings about it….

  9. Anonymous says:

    C, well, I'm not surprised that women are jealous of you, you seem like a pretty fabulous woman.

  10. Anonymous says:

    K, I have broken out into a cold sweat with the thought that she might actually read this! I hope she doesn't. She really is a good friend, and I really am over the Dzing thing. Not that it was such a big deal. Really.

  11. Anonymous says:

    D, I sure know how you feel, but I ask myself how I can be so selfish? My top 5 favorites rotate regularly, and it would take a psychic to know what to avoid. Well, maybe not. My love of Dzing was pretty obvious. I'm confused, but if (and I fervently hope this is not so) my friend reads this, it's really not a big deal! Don't be mad!

  12. Anonymous says:

    Yes, that's true! I do have friends with exceptional taste. I suppose I'm just jealous.

  13. Anonymous says:

    Its so hard when you love something and it expresses something about you, then someone else is getting all the compliments.

  14. Anonymous says:

    I wonder what she did to the so-called “friend”? Friendship can be so tricky, so laden with potential landmines. I once had a friend who I thought crossed flirtation lines with men. I told another friend that I felt I couldn't trust the original friend, and she said, “You know she'd never hurt you by going out with your boyfriend.” What did the flirtatious friend do? Ended up breaking up my friend's marriage by taking up with her husband. (Not that that has anything to do with perfume cheating.)

  15. Anonymous says:

    Chicago is far, far from me, and other perfumes have moved into that top category, of course (I can't be faithful to just one for long, alas). So go try yourself some Dzing!

    The cocktail, called the Bee's Knees (not to be confused with other Bee's Knees with rum) is simple, refreshing, and packs a wallop, so serve small and stick to one: In an empty shaker, mix a tsp of honey with the juice from a quarter of a lemon. I use the bottom of a wooden spoon for this. Then add ice to the shaker. Then add a jigger or two of gin. Shake, strain, and serve with a lemon twist. The honey does something nice for the gin, and it's not overly sweet at all.

  16. Anonymous says:

    Yes, not only smelled like me, but was having men tell her how great she smelled! I'm clearly jealous. Still, there should be a social crime called “cheating on a friend with her perfume”.

  17. Anonymous says:

    Boy, am I a stooge…

    Sorry about your name, Angela.

    Let's blame retrograde Mercury trying to go direct.

    [I like you, too]

  18. Anonymous says:

    No problem about my name, and Mercury in retrograde does explain a few things at home.

  19. Anonymous says:

    Jane, this is excellent advice, and I love the “can you let me grow tired of it first” response! Friendship can be so tricky, and no friendship, or love relationship, is 100% pure. I suppose friendship would be boring if it didn't challenge you to accept the other person as someone who might push your buttons from time to time.

  20. Anonymous says:

    Angela, you're not petty at all! Your friend was totally out of order when she took over your Dzing. I've never been through such an experience myself, but I've heard horror stories about friends taking over signature scents. Nowadays I rarely reveal to people what I smell of, at least not if I get compliments for my darlings. You'll never know, whan you least expect it, someone close to you will make it their own!

  21. Anonymous says:

    I am literally ROFLMAO reading these hilarious comments – you guys are great! In light of today's post, I hereby propose a new term coined especially for the evil scent perps who brazenly steal our fragrant limelight – SCENTJACKERS! I already smell blockbusters with such catchy titles as “Whatever Happened with the Holy Grail” and “The Scentjacker Strikes Back”, LOL! Sorry, but this… is… killing… me :-D

    On 2nd thought, I do remember giving away two full bottles back in my unselfish days… :-)

  22. Anonymous says:

    Sharing enthusiasm for what you love, be it a perfume or a drink encourages others to try it too…usually that’s why you’re telling them about it in the first place; you want them to try it, you want them to love it like you do. So, if you don’t want to share then don’t rave about it in the first place, right? If she’s a great friend, and she sounds like she is, then I don’t understand why you didn’t just flat out tell her you’d rather she didn’t buy it quite yet…please.

    I don’t have any problem sharing my scents, but that’s because I’m not around my friends enough for it really bother me, and I try new scents often enough that the chances we’re wearing the same thing on any given day are slim. Plus I *want* them to try it, and I want them to love it. I once spritzed a friend with one of my favorite scents and she hated it! That experience really disappointed me, and made me consider how much I had wanted her to share the love in the first place. I have another friend, who I swear, doesn't share any of my perfume tastes at all, so maybe I am jealous that you have a friend like that at all :)

  23. Anonymous says:

    You are so nice for understanding! I think I will follow your advice and keep, at least, my top handful of favorites secret until others pop up to take their places.

  24. Anonymous says:

    D, I am wildly jealous that I didn't think of Scentjackers! It's perfect! Let's start using it regularly. Beware the Scentjacker…

  25. Anonymous says:

    Yes, of course you're right, and it's complicated. Of course I wanted her to love Dzing, just like I'd want her to love a person I loved, too. But, hey, she still needs to respect my feelings about it and keep her paws off both of them. The strange thing is that I don't think it would have bothered me as much if it were a different friend. Hmm. Needs more analysis.

  26. Anonymous says:

    Beware the Scentjacker, LOL!

  27. Anonymous says:

    Wow .. to Angela and everyone, thanks — this was very interesting reading. I can see both sides of this (it must be the Gemini in me) — I don't have many close friends who wear perfume AT ALL, much less the odd things I wear, and I would love having someone close to me to share with. On the other hand, I can understand your feelings as well — particularly for a scent as distinctive at Dzing! (which I love BTW but is one of the few L'Artisans that smells terrible on me). I suppose that, for me personally, I am so far from any sort of fragrance monogamy (or even a group of 10 — or 20) that, in the end, if I caught a friend wearing something I wear I'd be more surprised than anything else.

  28. Anonymous says:

    Perfume is personal…. No need to be ashamed of your jealousy. Just like one of the previous comments, I too do not have many friends who share my love for fragrance. I think that your friend and perhaps a lot of other women do not realize that being a fragrance connoisseur is serious business and they just spray on whatever smells good and be on their way… When I started this job, there was a woman who wore Angel by Thierry Mugler. I too, wore Angel. What did I do? Started wearing something else and continue to wear Angel on other days.

    Just let your friend know that Dzing! is a personal favorite of yours..

  29. Anonymous says:

    I'm pretty far from fragrance monogamy, too, but when I stumble on a new one I love, I do go crazy with it for a while, then it passes into the harem. I think this is why I like Jane's suggestion that I ask the friend to hold off for a few months until my initial infatuation fades some (as it has).

    Maybe what it boils down to for me is jealousy. I'm simply jealous of the compliments she gets and somehow think I deserve them instead. Still, I do think there's an unspoken rule about these things.

  30. Anonymous says:

    You must be right that she didn't understand how personal it is to me. I sure don't think she wanted to “scentjack” (thanks, D). It hasn't got in the way of our friendship–I'm just letting off a little steam.

  31. Anonymous says:

    I wonder if this is a girl thing – this close identification with a favourite perfume and the possessive love affair with it? Would a bloke even notice if his best mate came into the bar/pub wearing the same cologne, let alone narrow his eyes and feel usurped in some mysterious way? (Ooo narrowing eyes and mystery suddenly makes me think of Daniel Craig – the new James Bond who's creating a stir over in the UK, don't know if he's hit your cinemas yet – I wonder what, if anything, HE wears?????)

    I can't try my theory out on my man as he's the classic absent-minded professor who is so oblivious to perfume he doesn't even notice when I'm wearing knock-out drops like Tubereuse Criminelle, let alone splash anything other than water on himself.

    Ah well, at least I don't have to drag him away from the mirror………..

  32. Anonymous says:

    Today's comments have really led me to reflect on why I was so put out about the Dzing-jacking. I think the unflattering truth is that it boils down to my own feelings of competition and jealousy. Not that I condone my friend's adoption of my fave at that time, but because, after all, it's just perfume and lord knows there's more where that came from. Next time, I say something.

    As for Daniel Craig, how about YSL's M7? Seems right to me. I do love Sean Connery in his Goldfinger era, but I'm open minded to Craig. I think the movie comes out in the U.S. this week.

  33. Anonymous says:

    cogitating on this some more — I think for 98% of people (probably like your friend), if they smell it, and like it, they buy and don't think twice. They don't the same intimate relationship you have with fragrance, like a lover … my sister-in-law shares my love for Messe de Minuit (hey, you don't smell THAT on folks every day!) which I introduced her to, and now I get decants for her. Of course, we also own several identical items of clothing (shirts and skirts first admired each other), which we think is humorous but others find bizarre — perhaps this is the same kind of jealousy? It clearly bothers other people a lot more than it bugs us, but then I guess if we were less weird we'd stop doing it, knowing that. For us, I think it's a funny expression of undeclared intimacy, as we are both grateful to have such a close relationship (we are married to brothers) instead of strain.

  34. Anonymous says:

    (guy chiming in)

    I would feel a twinge of jealousy if I bumped into someone I knew wearing my current favorite (Black Walnut by Banana Republic). Fortunately everyone I know who I've suggested it to has turned their nose down at it, and it is mine all mine. Suckers.

    A friend of mine and I once joked about meeting up with some mutual friends of ours wearing Kouros, just to make olefactory pariahs of ourselves. I don't think either of us even owns a bottle, though, and I've always been a little hesitant to walk up to a counter and ask for a bottle to try on.

  35. Anonymous says:

    Thanks for the perspective. I'm glad to know I'm not the only one.

    p.s. If you REALLY want to get you friends worked up, try Drakkar Noir!

  36. Anonymous says:

    It's terrific to be so close to someone you can revel in the personal things you share. (In grade school, I used to call my best friend most nights so we could wear the same kinds of things.) The line between love and jealousy can waver, I guess. If a tiny chink–or suspician of one–in the love is observed, feelings can jump to competition too fast. And you're right about my friend, she probably didn't even think twice about it.

  37. Anonymous says:

    ;-) :-D

  38. Anonymous says:

    I'll have to look out for the YSl. As for Daniel Craig, our press, having hammered him initially for daring to try and do a Connery, has now gone bananas over him, about how the camera drools over his iconic body as it emerges from the sea, a la Ursula Andress. Men and women are apparently mesmerised by his combination of sex and danger – oh and he can actually act. I have yet to see Casino Royale (wouldn't usually bother with these later James Bonds – agree Connery was always the one – but have to see THIS one) and I'll take a sample of YSL M7 to sniff!!!!!!!! Thanks for the suggestion.

  39. Anonymous says:

    After that description, I'll be buying a ticket, too.

  40. Anonymous says:

    I can see this from both sides of the fence, I love perfume and I am quite protective of the ones I love but I am always over the moon when someone asks me what I am wearing. Also my mum wears 'Van Cleef' and my sister wears 'Sonia Rykiel' and I have small bottles of both perfumes because they make me feel closer to them in an instant. I think your perfume is so personal that you can feel violated (if that isn't too OTT)! by the thought of someone almost robbing YOUR identity. Oh, I don't know, I suppose you can't take it with you when you die! Just lets all enjoy it while we can! To add insult to injury I would love the recipe for that vintage cocktail…………………………

  41. Anonymous says:

    I'm scared to jump into this thread, because I fear I am one of those…dah duh DAH…Scentjackers! Yes, for years when I was a teenager I religiously worked out what my glamorous Italian friend was wearing and surreptitiously bought it myself. No wonder she was always buying new scents, and eventually started coming back from abroad with perfumes no one else (ie me) would ever be able to get hold of! But she smelled so damn good, and I wanted to feel that I was that nice to be near as well…the irony is that they never smelled on me anything like they did on her. Apologies, S, if I spoiled your pleasure all those years ago! I'm much more grown-up now. When my daughter 'discovered' my Passage d'Enfer and made off with it, I was delighted and flattered. Mainly, of course, because it turns to cinders on my skin…

    I thought Daniel Craig was excellent in The Road to Perdition (where he played Paul Newman's dissolute son). A Bond who's a proper actor is certainly refreshing (I like Pierce Brosnan best of all of them, but let's face it…Remington Steele….)

  42. Anonymous says:

    And I must admit, a few weeks ago the coffee shop assistant leaned across the counter with an expression of rapture and said “Whit is thit SCINT?” (She was South African. It added greatly to my sense of exoticism.) I swelled with pride that my Jour de Fete was being so admired, but of course I'd only just sprayed it and five minutes later she'd have had to stick her nose down my cleavage to detect it… But I simply ADORE having my scent complimented. I am so pathetic.

  43. Anonymous says:

    It sounds like we're on the same page on this! I want to share the love and protect it for me alone. (And for the cocktail recipe, see my response to Jan, above.)

  44. Anonymous says:

    I love having people admire my perfume, too! It's good to have a comment from a reformed scentjacker, too…

    It's wonderful that your daughter liked your perfume enough to adopt a bottle. Somehow, that seems right, even fitting.

  45. Anonymous says:

    I bought my Mom a bottle of Tocade when she liked it on me, just because I was so wildly enthusiastic that anyone even noticed I was wearing something nice. But it is my *mom* so I don't feel competitive.

    One of my closest friends – and a wonderful, wonderful person, a bridesmaid at my wedding – requested (apparently unintentionally) the exact same engagement ring as me. I had accidently left mine at her house after moisturizing my hands, and she tried it on before she returned it to me. Later the same year she got engaged and picked out a ring because it seemed so “familiar and right” on her hand. When she found out she “copied” me, she was horrified – but, even to my own surprise, I was just flattered that she approved of my taste. We live in different cities, though – maybe it would be different if she lived down the block…

  46. Anonymous says:

    I can see where it would have been different if your friend had requested the ring, knowing it was the same as yours without consulting with you, then simply told you about it matter of factly. (But then, she probably wouldn't be your friend to start with!)

    I had a friend who dreamed of having a dog, and who decided that once she did she would name the dog Scout. One of her friends then adopted a dog and named him Scout. My friend was fit to be tied for weeks. (I don't think she ever did get a dog.)

  47. Anonymous says:

    I really liked a particular name for a child, a son specifically, that I had mentioned to my then boyfriend, an extremely devoted, commitment-ready fellow, many eons ago. Last year, my husband put the kibosh on it, and then we had a girl anyway, but I recently found out that the ex-boyfriend, who I have long since fallen out of touch with, has married and named his son the (rather uncommon) name. It didn't bother me, I just wondered if he ever explained to his wife.

  48. Anonymous says:

    …or if he'll ever explain it to his son!

  49. Anonymous says:

    Share Ormonde Woman with my best friend? Over my dead freaking . . . okay, we already share Parfum de Therese, Erotica, and Champaca. But she wouldn't do that to me. Would she? Parker? No. Yeah? No.

  50. Anonymous says:

    Well, that settles it…I think my Sacrebleu has worn off enough now. I'm putting a big spritz of Ormonde Woman down my sweater right now.

  51. Anonymous says:

    It suddenly came to me in the night – I think this is partly about our sense of uniqueness. We all know we're special and one-offs, but the world doesn't necessarily agree, so we value the things that set us apart.

    Tigs's point about names taps into the same feelings. I have an American friend called Lola and when she first came to London (many years ago) she seemed to be THE Lola. She booked tables just in her first name (how COOL is that?) anyone talking about a Lola knew it was her. This seemed like the rarest distinction to a poor plain Jane like me who had to use her surname to differentiate herself from every other Jane. Lola was the special import, the rare niche confection, while Jane was the department store brand (but quite a nice one all the same)!

    But then the name Lola became fashionable and every media mummy was cooing it to their little bundles of fluff in the nursery. My friend now had a name that had zoomed from rare distinction to common currency. How hard is that?

    Of course it only matters if it's in your backyard. Think of all the Lolas in South America, or those women in Knightsbridge who're wearing Ormonde Woman. As long as you're the only one within your circle of friends and acquaintances then you've held on to your this particular badge of uniqueness.

    Smelling like a woman or rare taste and distinction even makes up for being called Jane, or Angela! – rather than Isolde or Lettice (my all time fave Elizabethan name)!

  52. Anonymous says:

    It's very hard to remind oneself that our worth, our femininity, our uniqueness, is NOT wrapped up in a fragrance, recipe, haircolor,…

    “What's in a name”…?

    Still, there is such a deep talismanic quality which perfumes carry, an innate thing, that I think the equation w/ a lover is very apt !

  53. Anonymous says:

    I've been pondering this article all day yesterday apparently, because my answer to the dilemma came to me when I woke up this morning. Scent does imprint upon people. When scent lovers wear perfume, it is usually because it speaks to us, it expresses outwardly a bit of what we feel inside, how we view things, maybe how we want to be viewed at the time.

    If we fall hard for a fragrance, it is like creating a new mannerism. If this mannerism is received favourably by others, we feel more validated. Now, if we wore this perfume first and imprinted on a lot of people first, we can feel like a “scentjacker” is mimicking us when they wear this fragrance; like they are pretending to be us – and this opens up a whole other can of worms to be explored at your leisure :)

    Same if someone else makes a HG out of a scent you like to wear once in a while. We realize that subconsciously at least, if you interact with the same people on a frequent basis, it will be like you are trying to impersonate this other person and it can come across as silly or uncomfortable.

    So, I think the way scent works emotionally with us, and the way we want to emotionally separate ourselves as unique, it makes sense to me how we might react emotionally when scents overlap with others in our lives.

    Great article Angela! Thanks for all the insights you provided.

  54. Anonymous says:

    Oh my… I remember being a “scent-jacker” too!!!! I went home to visit my folks back in Brooklyn, NY and one of our old childhood friends was wearing Byblos (this was in the 80's). I asked her what was that and she told me.. I was naive enough to admit that I want it and she looked at me like I had horns!!! Once again, I innocently explained that I wouldn't be anywhere near her when I wear it as I live in California!!! Trust me, my infactuation with Byblos didn't last too long. Its rare that I'll “scentjack” (i just love that term…) from people. I too realize that not all scents would smell good on me as they would on a complete stranger.

    Perhaps our love for fragrance began at admiring someone else's….?

  55. Anonymous says:

    I think you're in the clean. If you live across the country from someone–especially just a childhood friend–wearing the same fragrance isn't really scentjacking, IMHO. I haven't smelled Byblos in years! I used to really like it, though.

  56. Anonymous says:

    Thanks Angela, I too figure since I'll be 3,000 miles away I can get away with this… Whew.

  57. Anonymous says:

    Jane, YES! I think you've hit the nail on the head! I think I resented that my friend was adopting the unusual (and I think pretty terrific) aspects of me, making them–and so me–less unusual. Maybe she did it because she admired who I am and wanted to make some part of it her, too. I want her to like the unusual parts of me, Dzing included, but I resent having my individuality claimed as her own. Very astutue of you. So, scentjacking is a crime of identity. (Kind of like the Talented Mr. Ripley).

    I forgot about all those bourgeois London ladies wearing Ormonde Woman. I'll have to keep that in mind next time I visit.

  58. Anonymous says:

    C, such an important thought to remember. It's all about confidence and self worth.

  59. Anonymous says:

    Lisa, your comment combined with Jane's, above, seem to explain best why having a close friend wear your scent cuts so personally. It feels as if she takes a part of you away, whether it is impersonation or simply theft.

  60. Anonymous says:

    I bought L'eau d'Issey pour homme in 96 after my first trip to the states.

    Back in the office in Argentina, a coworker complimented me on the frag, I told him the name of it.

    THE NEX DAY he came wearing (as in bathed id) léau…

    My reaction was of hatred… I gave the barely used bottle to a friend the nex weekend, and bought myself the Impossible-to-get in Argentina Clinique's Chemistry…. Of course he asked again… and I told him and he spent weeks in frustration trying to get it unsuccesfully….Justice was served.

    It is not that you are not a better person, Angela. Scentjacking is a CRIME and should be punishable by law like stylejacking and musicjacking. And I bet you know what I mean… Write to your congressman NOW, lets make Scentjacking ILLEGAL! ;-)

  61. Anonymous says:

    Hey, maybe with the change in the Congress I'll be able to get it passed! I'll write my congressional representatives right now and propose the Scentjacking Abolition Act. (I wonder what scent Speaker Nancy Pelosi wears?)

  62. Anonymous says:


    I didn't know you were a Gemini too!

    I've been on both sides of that predicament as well. I put my own rules down: I have to really REALLY love it to 'jack it. No casual 'jacking allowed. My best friend and I both love perfumes and we have an unspoken agreement: she allows me my Perfume Generale and I cede Jo Malone to her. Serge Lutens, however, is neutral ground (I introduced her to Chergui and Gris Clair and shamelessly poached Chene and Borneo).

  63. Anonymous says:

    I guess if I had my rules on scentjacking, I'd say it was great to 'jack anything that I wear less than once a month; fine to take it if it's in my top ten but you asked if it were o.k.; and not fine at all if I'm all a-swoon over it. At least, not fine until I grow tired of it and it moves down the list of favorites.

  64. Anonymous says:

    A great post. I feel your pain, although I could have easily become a scentjacker. If something smells nice, I try it on. It's never occurred to me until now that it might be an infringement, but I only know one person who actually has a holy grail. Everyone else just thinks I'm oddly obsessed with perfumes. Now that I think of it, I might have accidentally scentjacked my one friend by buying a sample of her perfume. I've never worn it around her though (doesn't smell good on me :)).

    Still, I totally identify with your conflicted emotions regarding this. When I find the perfumes that make me swoon, I know I'll feel exactly the same. Thank you for posting; I'll be more careful now!

  65. Anonymous says:

    Maybe scentjacking is only a crime if the person whose scent is appropriated is someone to whom scent is really important. I don't think buying a sample of a friend's scent counts as scentjacking–but only as curiosity. Sort of like letting the though flit past your brain, but not acting on it, of what it might be like to have a friend's boyfriend. Thanks for understanding my pain!

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